


burning in her firelight

by TheCookieMonster77



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Kissing, Women in suits, gay af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieMonster77/pseuds/TheCookieMonster77
Summary: Sara likes dresses. She likes them vintage or off the runway, sleek or flowy. Mila's seen the inside of Sara's closet, bursting at its seams with endless colorful skirts and lacy necklines. Mila loves Sara in dresses, loves the way Sara loves herself in dresses, but never has Sara in a dress knocked the air out of Mila's lungs likethis.Becausethisis Sara, wrapped up in a suit that's all pinstripes and crisp lines."Surprise~"two gay gals do some shopping





	burning in her firelight

**Author's Note:**

> huge s/o to my lovely beta pumpkin for helping me wring this into existence <3

Down in a little Parisian boutique, Mila waits for her girlfriend to finish shopping with only the faintest air of impatience. Her own new dress waits abandoned at the sales counter as Mila waits for Sara to pick through the mountain of clothing in the dressing room with her for her banquet outfit.

"Patience is a virtue," Sara calls teasingly from behind her curtain fortress. "I'm almost done, I promise!"

Mila's leg bounces with adrenaline, leftover and jittery from her earlier win. Her limbs still feel the rush of the performance, the thrill of throwing herself across the ice and pleasant ache of having completed a rigorous program. But as amazing as standing on the high podium, gold medal heavy around her neck and bouquet sweet in her arms, the anticipation and warmth twisting in her stomach are not from the crowds' cheers.

"Sorry, sugar," Mila says. Her stomach curls and Mila forces the blush from her cheeks. "I'm just a little... _excited._  You see, my amazing, talented, gorgeous girlfriend promised me a  _private_  congratulations back in my hotel room for ruining her three year GPF gold streak."

Sara pokes her head out between the velvet curtains and pouts. Mila grins and leans back against the wall with an eyebrow wiggle and Sara's pout breaks, eyes dancing. "Rub it in, why don't you? I wonder if you'll be this smug when I kick your ass at Europeans."

Mila laughs and blows Sara a kiss, butterflies erupting as Sara's cheeks pink. "Not a chance, Ms. Silver. I'll win gold again and be even worse."

Sara sticks her tongue out at Mila and disappears back into the curtains. "Give the girl a medal and she gets all cocky."

"What can I say?" Mila teases. "I'm a champion."

Sara laughs. "Careful cara, your medal won't fit over your head if it gets much bigger."

Mila snorts. "I'm sure you'll keep me in check."

"Mhmm. Gonna wipe that smug smile off your face. Starting now."

"What?" Mila asks right as the curtains are thrown open. Then her mind slams to a screeching halt and she nearly swallows her tongue as Sara struts out of the dressing room and onto the little stage surrounded by mirrors.

_I'm weak and gay._

Sara cocks her hip and Mila's knees wobble.

_So very, very gay._

Sara likes dresses. She likes them vintage or off the runway, sleek or flowy. Mila's seen the inside of Sara's closet, bursting at its seams with endless colorful skirts and lacy necklines. Mila loves Sara in dresses, loves the way Sara loves herself in dresses, but never has Sara in a dress knocked the air out of Mila's lungs like  _this._

Because  _this_  is Sara, wrapped up in a suit that's all pinstripes and crisp lines.

"Surprise~" Sara says smugly.

Mila's never seen Sara in a suit before. She can't tell if that's a blessing or not because there's something about the sharp angles that bring out the spark in Sara's dark eyes and the sly curve of her lips and dear  _god,_  not a single bit of Mila isn't swooning.

Sara's a vision, even from behind, her hair a dark waterfall down her back and her pants lovingly hugging her ass and the strong line of her legs. Mila tears her eyes away from Sara's impossibly long legs to meet Sara's half-lidded ones in the mirror. She flushes red and Sara's lips curl into knowing grin.

Mercifully, Sara's eyes slide away from Mila's to admire her reflection and Mila desperately wills the telltale blush from her cheeks (and ears and neck and shoulders). She wonders if Sara would notice her slipping off to find a nice ice bucket to dunk her head in and chase away the thoughts of her girlfriend on her knees before her in that suit.

"You know," Sara says conversationally, as though Mila isn't falling to pieces behind her, "I've never worn a suit before."

Sara shifts from one leg to another as she eyes her reflection critically, effortlessly capturing every last shred of Mila's attention and sanity with each cuff fiddle and thoughtful hum. Mila swallows harshly and her heart pounds in her chest as she pictures Sara perched on the edge of her bed in that suit, eyes burning, reaching up to grab Mila's shiny gold medal to pull her down onto soft lips and smooth sheets…

Sara raises her eyebrows in the mirror, demanding an opinion, and Mila's head goes fuzzy with want.

"Shame," Mila gasps around her uncooperative tongue.

"Mhmm, it is, isn't it," Sara says, cool as a cucumber. She plucks at the collar and fiddles with the top button. "I never realized how many buttons they had though."

_I'll help you get rid of them_  is almost out of her mouth before Mila slams it shut. Now is  _not_  the time for these thoughts, not when they're in public so far from their hotel, no matter how badly Mila wants to grab the suit lapels and make Sara pin her to the wall as Mila lets her know  _exactly_  how much she likes that suit with every swipe of her tongue-

Sara sweeps the her hair into a messy elegant bun and cocks her head at her reflection, exposing the smooth column of her neck, silky brown skin unmarred except for the smallest glimpse of a hickey Mila had left last night peeking out from underneath Sara's shirt collar.

Mila falls into the chair behind her with a whimper before her legs completely give out.

"Mila," Sara sing songs as she drops her hair and turns to face her.

(And  _oh_ , the view is even better from the front.)

Sara props her hands on her hips, inadvertently sweeping the edges of her suit jacket back and pretending that she doesn't know exactly what that does to Mila's already fragile composure. Sara licks her lips, the damp heat in her eyes pinning Mila to her seat and making warmth curl through her belly. "Mi- _la_ , you haven't told me what you think."

The dark blue suit warms Sara's brown skin and Mila  _burns_ with fantasies of undoing every button of her sharp white shirt to reveal silky smooth skin for Mila to worship. It's devastation on Mila's composure, but Sara looks striking and  _perfect_  wearing such an impeccable suit and Mila needs to stress it  _now_ so that her girlfriend can go buy the damn suit and Mila can drag Sara back to her hotel room immediately.

" _Hgnn_ ," she says instead.

Sara lifts an eyebrow, as though her eyes aren't sparkling with the knowledge of how frazzled Mila is now. She struts off the stage towards Mila, every  _clack_  of her shiny dress shoes making Mila's heart pound that much harder.

"Come on Mi- _laaa_ ," Sara purrs. She's so close, so close Mila can smell her light perfume and sweat and count every lash framing those dark warm eyes. "I wanna know what my gold medalist thinks of this suit."

Sara's breath - warm and sweet with the celebratory wine they had back in the hotel - fans over her cheeks and Mila  _snaps_.

Mila grabs a handful of Sara's shirt and yanks her down until her soft lips crash to Mila's. Sara's breath hitches and Mila swallows it and licks into Sara's mouth. They shouldn't do this in public, no matter the shivers it sends racing up Mila's spine, but Mila doesn't care. She's been buzzing with adrenaline all day and it just makes her press her lips harder against Sara's, needy, greedy,  _desperate_.

Sara tears away with a whimper, hot forehead falling against Mila's and gasping loudly in the small space between their lips.

Mila puffs out a laugh. She feels oddly triumphant, ruining Sara's composure, and she smirks up at Sara and her kiss swollen lips.

Sara's eyes are dark with heat and her fingers curl under Mila's hair, nails scratching against Mila's scalp, and Mila  _mewls_. Sara lets out the smallest groan before her grip tightens and she pulls Mila's head back and  _kisses_  her.

Mila's drowning, drowning as Sara takes her keens and gasps and whimpers and replaces them with burning heat and lightning sizzling under her skin. Sara takes and takes and  _takes_ , pushing against her until the back of the wooden chair bites into Mila's shoulders in an imitation of her earlier fantasies and then keeps pushing as though she could devour Mila forever.

Mila pulls away this time, gulping down air to assuage the fire burning in her lungs. Sara swallows, eyes dark and heavy with want, and her fingers slowly uncurl from their grip at the back of Mila's hair.

"Buy the suit?" Sara asks, voice deliciously hoarse.

" _Yes._ "

Mila, fingers still curled in the lapels, tugs Sara closer. Sara whimpers softly, lips parted, eyes sparkling with delight as Mila wins back control.

"And then," Mila says, voice thick and heavy, "you're gonna put it back on when we're at the hotel and show me  _exactly_  how proud of my gold medal you are."

**Author's Note:**

> hi im gay and love women in suits
> 
> [*flings self into the dumpster*](http://thecookiemonster77.tumblr.com)


End file.
